


Game Night

by SuperKat



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, Cold, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Game night in SPACE, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Romance, Sickfic, Some Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24897019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperKat/pseuds/SuperKat
Summary: “I don’t want to get sick,” Catra says, as if that’s going to help. “I never get sick.”“That is…almost true,” says Adora.-Catra is still learning how to be vulnerable in front of people. It's a process.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 616





	Game Night

**Author's Note:**

> Catra swears a little bit, hence the rating.

“Hmm.” 

Glimmer chews on her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes as she studies the splay of cards in her hand. She glances at the cards on the floor, and a mischievous smile blooms on her face. She plucks a card from her hand, placing it horizontally at the base of a small spread of cards in front of Catra. The card has a large purple splotch in the center. Bow gasps.

“Are you serious?” Catra says.

“Can you stop me?”

Catra surveys the cards in her hand, then hisses through gritted teeth in place of a reply. Melog’s ears droop and they lower their head as Catra puts her entire hand of cards into the discard pile.

Glimmer flashes Catra a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

Glimmer replies with another grin and a shrug. 

“Okay,” says Bow. “So Catra’s out this round. Adora? What’s your move?”

Adora, as usual, takes a long time to decide. Twice she reaches for a card, stops, shakes her head, and puts her hand down. 

Catra is about to tell her to _just pick one, already_ when a prickle in her nose distracts her. She turns to one side and sneezes, surprised and relieved that Melog doesn’t imitate it. When she turns back, she catches Bow giving her another one of his _you’re-so-cute_ looks, which she tries to ignore, even as Melog grumbles.

Finally, Adora places a card at the top of her spread, a blue one with three stars. “My options were awful,” she says, as if to explain why her move didn’t immediately win her the round.

Bow starts to reach for a card in his hand, but stops, muttering, “No, that’s too mean.” Catra raises her eyebrows at Glimmer.

Catra sneezes again as Bow places a card at the top of his spread. Again, Melog doesn’t imitate her. She doesn’t mind – the less attention drawn to her over a dumb sneeze, the better – but it’s new and strange. Come to think of it, she sneezed one or two times earlier today and Melog didn’t imitate her then, either. Catra starts to worry that they’re losing their connection, creating a moment of anxiety that Melog immediately senses. They shuffle to her lap and rest their head on her knee, purring. Catra smiles and scratches behind their ears.

“So Glimmer sacrificed and Catra’s out,” says Bow. “That leaves you and me, Adora. What’s your score?”

“Um,” Adora frowns, and it’s super-cute. Catra smiles as she counts. “Thirteen?”

“But you made a streak here,” says Glimmer, pointing to three contiguous blue cards, “so that section doubles. Your score is nineteen.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Adora lights up and Catra resists an urge to kiss her. “Right! Nineteen. Thanks Glimmer.”

“Yeah,” Catra grumbles as Bow adds her number to the scoresheet, “thanks, Glimmer.”

“Oh, come on,” says Glimmer, drawing a new card from the pile, “Like you wouldn’t have done the same to me.”

Catra draws another set of five cards. She gets a small thrill seeing her new hand, one that is not reflected in her face or – thankfully – Melog’s. Melog is very good at not giving away her bluffs on game night. She won several games in a row before anyone realized this.

“Catra was out last round, so she goes first this time,” Bow says. Catra allows herself a small smile as she places a card – red with tiny sparks – delicately on the left side of her spread. 

“Oh look,” she says, feigning surprise as she gestures to the newly-connected line of red cards, snaking from one end of her spread to the other. “I made a long streak.”

Bow gasps as Adora says: “Whoa,” and Glimmer shouts: “See? This is why I blocked you!”

Catra winks at Glimmer, then sits back to watch the rest of the round. She sneezes again as Bow is playing his card, sniffling and rubbing her nose with her knuckle. 

Adora blocks Glimmer on her next turn. She claims it has nothing to do with vengeance, but no one believes her, especially not after the way she blushes when Catra makes an exaggerated, “Aww.”

_“A faster route has been detected_ ,” says Darla. Everyone jumps. _“Course change recommended.”_

“Do it,” says Adora.

_“Acknowledged.”_ Some white lights flash on a display near the front windows, but the shift is too slight for any of them to notice. Catra rolls her eyes.

“Is there any way we can get her to stop doing that?” she asks, pinching the bridge of her nose, where she can feel the beginning of a headache brewing.

“Maybe,” says Bow, “but I don’t want to mess with the autopilot while we’re relying on it to get us around. I’d rather deal with these course corrections than get stranded out here.”

They check the scores. Glimmer is in last place after two rounds in a row with no points. Catra smirks at her. She is, of course, in the lead, though Bow is not far behind her. He is the only player who has never sacrificed or been blocked. Catra is tempted to try and block him in the next round, but decides not to because it seems harsh in a way that it doesn’t with Glimmer or Adora. She’s still getting the hang of what counts as “too mean” with this group.

Adora’s face lights up when she looks at her new hand of cards. “Yes!” she says under her breath. Catra smiles. Adora’s strategy with bluffing is to not even try. Obviously, it backfires most of the time, but it’s still super-cute. 

“Glimmer goes first,” says Bow. Glimmer eyes Adora.

“You can try and block me if you want,” says Adora with a smug grin. 

“Thanks,” says Glimmer, “but I think I’ll pass. I don’t trust that look.” She places a white card at the top of her stack, extending a streak of fairly-respectable length - though still not as long as Catra’s.

Adora sets down a pair of matching blue cards. “Boom!” she cries, raising two fists over her head.

“Hey,” says Glimmer, as Bow nods in approval. “I could have blocked that!”

“No you cou- oh,” Adora looks at her spread. Frowns. “Yeah. I guess you could have. Oops.” 

While Glimmer glowers, Catra throws her head back and laughs. “Leave it to Adora to bluff by accident.” Her laughter shifts into a hacking cough. She shakes her head, swallowing hard. “Beautiful.”

Adora is looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” says Catra, and it’s pretty much true. Her throat is a little tickly and a pressure is building behind her eyes, but it’s getting late and space is weird, so it’s probably nothing. She leans over and gives her girlfriend a kiss on the temple. “I love you.”

She ignores the way Melog narrows their eyes at her. Two rounds later, she wins the game. Again. Glimmer comes in last.

Catra gives Glimmer a look of exaggerated pity. “You’ll just have to try harder next time, Sparkles. Maybe Adora can teach you how to-” she interrupts herself with another sneeze. “How to bluff.”

She expects an angry reply, but instead Glimmer is looking at her with concern. That is definitely way worse. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Glimmer asks.

“You’ve been sneezing all day,” says Bow, shuffling the deck of cards.

Catra rolls her eyes. “I have _not_.” Though, now that she’s thinking about it… “I’m fine. So, are we playing again, or not?”

Bow and Glimmer exchange glances. “I’m sort of tired,” says Bow, and Catra can’t tell if it’s true or not. “I think I'm going to go to bed.” Glimmer nods.

“Tired of losing?” Catra smirks and shrugs. “I understand.”

She starts coughing again as she and Adora enter their bedroom. This fit lasts longer than the others, leaving her sitting on the bed, her throat stinging and her head throbbing. She does not have to look up to know that Adora is watching her with concern. Catra growls in frustration, resting her forehead in her hands. 

Adora passes her a water bottle, then sits next to her, rubbing circles on her back.

“I don’t _want_ to get sick,” Catra says, as if that’s going to help. “I never get sick.”

“That is… _almost_ true,” says Adora. “You’ve also never spent several days on a planet full of cat people before.”

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. One _fucking time_.

Adora kisses her head. They change into pajamas in relative silence, broken by two more sneezes. 

“If I admit I don’t feel well,” Catra says, rubbing her nose and sniffling, “could She-Ra heal me?”

Adora’s sigh is so dejected that Catra immediately knows the answer and regrets asking. “No. I tried that on Bow when he caught a cold last year. Not only did it not work, but I ended up catching it from him. I guess she…doesn’t do sickness? I don’t know.”

Figures. Catra hisses in frustration, which triggers another set of coughs, this one scratchier than before. Adora passes her the water bottle again and she drinks from it, ignoring the way every swallow twinges. 

When they were cadets in the Horde and one of them got sick (usually Adora), they would cuddle together somewhere warm and out of sight. Catra would wrap a blanket around them both and tell stories until Adora fell asleep. Her stories were long and violent, usually ending with Adora and Catra – or two people very similar to them – ruling a world together. On the rare occasion when Catra got sick, Adora would hold her tight and tell her stories full of friendship and love and two people who would never, ever be apart no matter what.

Tonight as they lie down, Adora wraps her arms around Catra, resting one hand on Catra’s temple and pressing a kiss into her hair. “Do you want me to tell you a story?” she asks. Catra laughs as if it were a ridiculous joke, but Melog purrs and licks Adora’s face. Adora laughs.

“Once upon a time,” says Adora. “Four best friends took a trip together.”

“In space?” Catra says, her voice stuffier than before. Adora huffs in exasperation and Catra laughs, which turns into another hacking, stinging cough. “Sorry. Continue.”

“Thank you,” says Adora, sounding huffy. “But…yes. In space. With their magical alien pet…dog.” Catra stifles her laughter, if only to prevent another coughing fit.

Adora holds her close and Catra leans in, soaking up her body heat. She feels tired all over even though she’s done very little today. Her muscles are aching and there’s a warm pressure building behind her eyes. She tries to ignore it all, tries to focus on Adora’s not-so-imaginary story about the Best Friend Squad and their space adventures. It takes a long time, but she eventually drifts off to sleep.

Catra wakes up in the middle of the night, her head pounding, her face warm and covered in sweat. She swallows, which sends a jolt of pain through her throat. Her mouth is paper-dry and she is very congested.

Adora is sound asleep, rolled over in the other direction with one arm dangling off the side of the bed. Catra turns away and sneezes into her pillow. The force of it sends something ringing and reverberating in her skull.

“Dammit,” she whispers. The words set her coughing again. She muffles them into her pillow, desperately trying not to wake up Adora. Adora has always been a light sleeper, but these past few months on the ship have relaxed them both. Adora stirs but does not wake up. 

Catra spends what feels like hours trying to fall back asleep even though her head feels like it’s full of rocks and her throat is stinging and her nose is so stuffed up it almost hurts. Eventually, Adora’s body heat becomes too much and Catra slips out of bed to lie down on the floor.

The last time Catra got sick was after that semi-successful mission to the Northern Reach. The cold air sank into her bones and refused to leave even when they reached a warmer climate. By the time they returned to the Fright Zone, Catra was feeling so awful that she went straight to her room without talking to anyone. She spent the night under the bed, tightly wrapped up in a blanket, trying not to think about Adora.

In the morning, Scorpia brought her a cup of tea, a full canteen of water, and a small bottle of pills. Catra braced herself to be smothered, but Scorpia was gentle and reassuring. She didn’t ask Catra to come out, didn’t stay very long, didn’t even seem surprised to find Catra curled up and sniffling under the bed. She assured Catra that she and Entrapta had the debriefing covered, and Hordak cared more about what Entrapta brought back than anything else.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” she said as Catra glowered from under her blanket, furious with her for being so kind. “You rest up, and I’ll cover for you until you get better. I’ll keep my com on me, so if you need anything, just call.” Catra didn’t respond, didn’t reach for the tea or the water or the medicine, just pulled the blanket over her head and waited until Scorpia left, hating her, hating herself. 

The hum of the ship lulls her to sleep after what feels like another hour. Scorpia appears in her dream, looking at Catra through glowing green eyes surrounded by crackling red lightning. She points an accusatory claw in Catra’s direction, watching with a cold and silent stare as something drags Catra underwater. 

She wakes up with a shout to find Melog licking her face. Catra sits bolt upright, gasping for breath, clutching her chest as she starts to cough again. This fit is intense enough to bring tears to her eyes. She wraps her trembling arms around Melog’s neck, burying her face in their fur as she hears Adora shift.

“Catra?” Footsteps. A gasp. “What happened?”

“Too hot on the bed,” Catra mutters, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm.

Adora sits beside her, feeling her forehead. “You have a fever. I’m going to find you some medicine, or an ice pack.”

Melog whines as Catra fights down a surge of panic. She reaches for Adora’s hand and clutches, unable to look at her.

“Hey,” Adora’s whisper is a caress, causing hot tears to spill down Catra’s cheeks. Adora brushes Catra’s bangs off her forehead with a gentle hand. “I’m going to come right back. You’re sick, Catra, and I want to take care of you. Just like you take care of me.” 

Catra manages to let go of her hand. Melog nuzzles her, and she clings to them again. She’s still in the same position when Adora returns, carrying a whole armload of supplies. Catra gives her a small, wry smile.

Adora laughs. “I know. I just wanted to make sure I had everything you might need.” She hands Catra a full water bottle and two green pills. “This is supposed to help with your fever. The label says it’ll make you drowsy, but I think that’s a good thing.” She smiles, resting a hand on Catra’s back as Catra takes the medicine.

“I brought you some tissues and ice packs,” Adora says. “I can get you some more pillows if you think you’ll be more comfortable on the floor, or-” Catra shakes her head, and Adora looks relieved. 

Climbing back into bed is awkward at best. Her limbs are aching and trembling and heavy. She feels like she’s moving through thick sludge, like she’s being pinned down by dark magic or…Catra closes her eyes. Melog, now the size of a house cat, nuzzles her face with theirs.

She curls up on one side, and Adora sets an icepack wrapped in a soft cloth across her forehead. She places another one at the back of Catra’s neck. Catra jumps at the touch, but the cold pressure feels good against her skin. Already her eyelids are drooping, the ancient medicine pulling her into sleep. 

She wakes up feeling like her entire body has turned to stone. The ice packs are cool and soothing, but the cloth around them has grown a little too wet from her comfort. Her mouth is painfully dry and her throat is stinging. She coughs and it scrapes her throat raw.

“Catra?”

Adora looks up from her position on the floor beside the bed. She’s on her back, sweating, knees up and hands behind her head. She sits up; her post-morning-exercise look would be doing things to Catra if Catra weren’t already feeling like death itself. 

“How are you feeling?” Adora sits on the bed near Catra’s knees, pressing the back of her hand to Catra’s cheek.

Closing her eyes, Catra whispers, “Like shit.” 

“I’m sorry,” Adora says. “Bow and Glimmer brewed you some tea and made you some breakfast. Do you think you can sit up?”

Catra pushes herself up, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Bow and Glimmer know how sick she is. Her arms are clumsy, her movements slow and awkward, but she manages. Melog lays down behind her, growing until they’re large enough that she can rest against their body. 

Adora is pouring some tea from a metal thermos into a cup. The steam feels nice but Catra can’t smell it, can’t smell anything.

“The label said it’s good for colds,” says Adora, sitting on the bed and resting her hand on Catra’s leg. “I’m sorry if it’s gross.”

“It’s okay.” Catra’s voice is thick and low and hoarse. “I won’t be able to taste it anyway.”

Adora sets a plate of small, white wafers on the nightstand. Catra tries one, and it feels like dust in her mouth. She manages to finish it but can’t bring herself to pick up another. The tea tastes like bitter, sandy water, leaving an odd film in her mouth but coating her throat in a much more soothing way.

“Can I do anything for you?” Adora asks.

Catra bites back a joke about mercy-killing. She shakes her head and they sit in silence as she nurses the tea.

“I know I interrupted your morning workout,” Catra says at last.

Adora shakes her head. “It’s alright. You’re more important.”

Catra smiles, feeling a flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with the fever. Hearing someone, hearing _Adora_ say this to her is something she’s still not used to.

“I’m okay,” she says, still blushing, “if you want to finish exercising.”

Adora looks from Catra to the floor and back, a smug grin forming on her face. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Catra returns her smile. “Maybe.”

Adora laughs, blushing slightly and planting a soft kiss on Catra’s head. “Tell me if you need anything.” Catra nods in place of a reply.

She finishes the tea and manages to force down another wafer while Adora exercises. Adora brings her a tracker pad and some ear pieces; Catra spends most of the morning listening to recordings of music and trying not to think about how gross and miserable she feels. 

The tea helps while she’s drinking it, but less than five minutes after she finishes it, she feels just as awful as before. Listening to music is a helpful distraction, but it doesn’t take away the constant ache behind her eyes or the burning in her throat every time she swallows. It can’t stop her from shivering or sneezing or sweating or coughing so hard that she gags.

The only thing that truly helps is Adora. Adora, covering her with extra blankets or placing a fresh ice pack on her forehead; Adora rubbing slow circles on Catra’s back or carding her fingers through Catra's hair; Adora refilling the tea and water, placing soft kisses on Catra's cheeks and temples. 

Around midday, Bow brings them a tray with some soup and more tea. He doesn’t stay very long, which Catra is grateful for. She can’t smell the soup, but it goes down better than the wafers did, and once she finishes it she feels a little stronger. 

On the tray, Bow has left a deck of cards. Catra and Adora play several rounds of Queen’s Eye after they finish eating. It’s not Catra’s favorite game; it’s pretty mindless, more about luck than skill. It’s perfect, however, for her current state of mind, a nice way to pass the time. Adora is terrible at shuffling cards, which is – for lack of a better word – adorable.

After a few rounds, Catra starts to feel the dull ache sinking back into her limbs, but she doesn’t say anything until a horrible coughing fit leaves her trembling and exhausted. She drinks a whole cup of water, then curls up on her side while Adora refills it.

“This,” Catra says, her voice a ragged whisper, “is the worst.”

“I know.” Adora lays down beside Catra, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. Catra closes her eyes. She’d probably be purring if she didn't feel so awful. She closes her eyes and lets herself drift off.

She dreams that She-Ra tries to pull her back from a pit of green fire that crackles and sparks with menacing heat. Catra shouts at her in Shadow Weaver’s voice, then pushes her into it, watching as Adora’s face is slowly consumed by flame.

Catra wakes up to Melog licking her face again. She sits bolt upright, crying out with a voice that is too low, too gravely to be her own. She is sweating and shaking; she flinches when Adora rests a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” Adora says. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” Catra relaxes into her touch even though her heart is still pounding. “Your fever spiked again. Were you having a nightmare?”

Catra nods, trying to take a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her chest crackles, sending her into another coughing fit. She lets Adora hold her as Melog murmurs soothing words, one paw draped across her lap.

“We need to bring your fever down,” Adora says after a long silence. “Can you lie down so I can put an ice pack on you?”

Catra lies back against the pillows, her limbs aching, her chest crackling, her face and body glowing with heat. When she feels the ice pack on her forehead, she squeezes her eyes shut, unable to stop tears from spilling down her temples. 

“Hey,” Adora’s voice is so gentle that it sends more hot tears down the sides of Catra’s face. She feels them in her ears and hair. “We’ve got you, okay? I'm sorry you’re so sick, but Melog and I’ve got you, and we’re going to take care of you until you get better.”

More tears fall as old thoughts swirl and surface: she doesn’t belong here, she doesn’t deserve kindness, Adora deserves better than her. Catra grits her teeth against the sting of guilt and shame, which Melog, of course, senses immediately. They snuggle up to her side, murmuring reassurance into her ear. They know what she is thinking and they reject it.

“Yeah,” says Adora with feigned confidence. “What they said.” Catra laughs through her tears, a small, choked sound too weak to trigger another coughing fit. 

After a minute of silence, Adora picks up the tracker pad. She fiddles with it for a moment, then sets it on the bed. It starts to play a recording: one of the elders from the Magicat homeworld telling old folk tales. There’s something soothing and familiar about them, stories of exploration and loyalty, curiosity and independence, bravery and dignity.

Bow and Glimmer bring more soup in the evening, this time enough for everyone. Adora sits on the end of the bed while Bow and Glimmer sit together on the floor, all three of them chatting and bantering as though it’s perfectly normal to have dinner in the bedroom.

Normally, it’s uncomfortable being this visible when she’s sick, but Catra doesn’t mind as much as she thought she would. She listens to their conversation, awed at the way they can talk about nothing for hours and seem to genuinely enjoy it. Catra has only ever been able to do that with Adora.

After she finishes eating, Catra lies down on her side, watching over the bed as the three of them play Streak. Glimmer blocks Bow in the third round, causing Bow and Adora to gasp in shock while Catra smothers her laughter-turned-coughing-fit into the pillow. 

The dynamics are very different with three players; since Glimmer sacrificed and Bow was blocked, Adora is the only one who gets any points this round. Bow, in a very uncharacteristic act of vengeance, blocks Glimmer in the next round. It becomes a running joke between them, and Adora wins the game simply by being the only person who earned points in more than half the rounds. Bow and Glimmer get into a weirdly cuddly shoving match while Catra sits up, pulls a blanket over her shoulders, and gingerly lowers herself to the floor.

Adora watches her in concern. Catra smiles. 

“What?” she says, “afraid I can still beat you when I’m sick?” Her voice is raspier than she would like, but it doesn’t matter. 

Adora scoffs, rolling her eyes. Still, she doesn’t bother to hide the expression of worry on her face as she feels Catra’s forehead. “You’re still really warm. Are you sure you’re up to this?” 

“It’s just a card game,” says Catra. “And anyway it…helps. Being with all of you.” Catra’s insides are squirming, as they always do when she admits something like this. Adora smiles and pours her another cup of tea. 

“Don’t think we’re going to go easy on you,” says Glimmer as Bow shuffles the cards. It’s a total lie, and everyone knows it; no one blocks Catra even once. Catra doesn’t win – she’s feeling far too fuzzy and gross to pay close attention to what she’s doing – but playing is a nice distraction from her ailing body. 

She doesn’t have enough energy for more than one game, so instead she lies down with her head in Adora’s lap while Bow teaches Glimmer and Adora how to play a three-person game called Solo Mission. Catra drifts off partway through, waking up to Adora stroking her cheek while Glimmer shuffles the cards and Bow loads the empty dishes onto the tray. 

Catra pushes herself up with trembling arms, trying and failing to stifle a fit of harsh, wet coughs. Adora rubs circles on her back and Bow passes her a cup of water. 

As Bow and Glimmer get up to leave, Catra tries to find the words to tell them that she’s glad they’re here; she’s glad they’re friends. They have seen her at her worst in so many different ways and yet they are more her family than anyone she’s ever known. Unable to say these things out loud, Catra offers them a wordless smile, one that is returned in full.

Adora gives her two more of the green pills, and Catra takes them as the door swishes closed. She tries to climb into bed, all shaking limbs and crackling breath, her movements uncoordinated and her eyes struggling to stay open. Adora reaches over to help, which Catra doesn't mind. It's alright when it's Adora. 

Not for the first time, Catra thinks about how much her teenage self would hate the person she’s become. The old version of herself didn’t know what it meant to feel safe and protected and loved, to understand that people are here for her simply because they want to be, to know that she can be exactly who she is and they will still be here tomorrow. 

Catra closes her eyes as Adora brushes her bangs off her forehead. Already, the medicine is pulling her under and she can’t get her mouth to form words. So instead, she nuzzles Adora’s hand with her face. Adora giggles and kisses her forehead.

“I’ll be right here if you need anything,” Adora says. At Catra’s feet, Melog purrs.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Game Night [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830226) by [caminante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caminante/pseuds/caminante)




End file.
